


we miss being ruffians

by liebgott



Category: American Idiot, American Idiot - Green Day/Armstrong
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-22
Updated: 2013-09-22
Packaged: 2017-12-27 08:21:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/976577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liebgott/pseuds/liebgott
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Will is the only one that treats Tunny like a human when he comes home from overseas.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	we miss being ruffians

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ohyoudork](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohyoudork/gifts).



> This story has been bouncing around my head (and my WIP folder) for a long time, and I'm really excited to finally put it out there! Title is from Guest Room by The National. Originally written for the [Small Parts Fest](http://smallpartsfest.livejournal.com/).

Will is the only one that treats Tunny like a human when he comes home from overseas. Johnny is still bitter, hanging on to the sting of being abandoned in the city so tightly that he can barely look Tunny in the eye. They attempt to hang out together all of once, but the tension that hangs in the air weighs too much on all of them for it to be even close to worthwhile. It's not a surprise and it's not all that much of a letdown in the end. Nobody has really grown up, but everyone has changed, and the three of them don't fit together nearly as well as they did in their glory days.

Johnny drifts, spends all his time writing shitty songs about a girl whose name he either can't remember or is desperate to forget, pretends like he's really committing to getting sober. Tunny sees him sometimes when he swings by the 7-Eleven, but he stops trying to make conversation. It's better this way, and he knows it. The way Johnny stares at Tunny's artificial leg every time he passes by seals it -- if he can't handle that, there's no way he can handle anything else about Tunny's post-war life.

Most days, Tunny ends up on Will's couch. That much is exactly the same, and it's comforting, simple. The living room is somewhat cleaner but the shitty TV shows they watch are the same, and so is the shitty beer. Will tolerates Tunny's new tendency towards anxious silence better than anyone else left in their godforsaken hometown, and he doesn't laugh when Tunny jumps at every noise even remotely resembling a gunshot or an explosion. The last person who was that understanding was Extraordinary Girl, and she's long gone now. It's easy and Tunny thinks it's good for him, even if almost everyone he still talks to in town thinks he's in a rut. He's happier than he was at war, and it's better than him sitting alone in his studio and thinking about applying for jobs.

Twice a week, Will takes Tunny to his physical therapy appointments. He sits in the waiting room for the first few, but after he's read every single outdated magazine on offer, he starts coming in with Tunny. There are exercises he's meant to be doing at home, so Will learns how to do help Tunny through them. It's frustrating at first, and terribly awkward, but Will starts cracking jokes halfway through the appointment and everything eases up. Tunny wonders after that what it would've been like with Johnny there instead, but his imagination comes up empty. That should be sad, he thinks, but more than that, he finds an incredible comfort in how easily Will seems to be navigating things.

Everything changes gradually from there. Tunny sleeps on Will's couch more often than not, and they settle into a sort of routine. They look for jobs online while marathoning Pawn Stars and play at scaling back their drinking and smoking. Tunny goes back to his apartment every so often to pick up mail and clean clothes, but a layer of dust is settling over everything and he can't bring himself to care about cleaning it up. Will's place feels more and more like his actual home every day, and if he's not trying to get rid of Tunny, then there's no reason to for him to go back to his shitty studio and even shittier neighborhood. Getting up the steps to Will's place sucks some nights, yeah, but he's willing to tolerate it for good company and constant distractions from the buzzing in his head.

Tunny sleeps like shit most nights -- nightmares are par for the course now -- but he does his best to cover it up. His excuses for being tired get dumber by the day ( _The couch is hard on my back, I got sucked into a Top Chef marathon_ ), but Will doesn't push the issue. It's obvious he knows Tunny is lying, because he always knows when he lies, but so long as he doesn't make an issue of it, Tunny isn't going to say anything. Ever since the accident, he's dealt with the nightmares on his own, and he's enough of a burden on Will as it is -- there's no reason to add to that. There's still a part of him that thinks Extraordinary Girl left because he was too much to handle; that part of him fears that the same will happen with the only friend he has left.

In the end, he doesn't have a choice in keeping Will in the dark about the nightmares. He wakes up screaming with images of explosions flashing through his head, and before he can even register being awake, Will is there. _You're fine_ , he says, wrapping a hand tightly around Tunny's wrist. _I'm here, okay, you're fine, just -- breathe, okay? You're gonna be okay._ He's using his calmest voice, but there's a terror in his eyes that betrays it. That terror is the first thing Tunny registers when he comes back to his body and starts to breathe normally. All he wants is to erase this, for Will to forget seeing him when he feels like everything is falling apart, to feel like they're close to being on equal footing again. For all they've been through, this feels different somehow, and it feels like something has broken.

Will doesn't give Tunny much time to dwell on it. He gets up from where he's kneeling on the floor and gets Tunny's crutches and insists on making him come to bed with him. _Don't make it weird, just c'mon,_ Will says, and it's clear that he's not taking no for an answer. Sleep sounds too good, anyway, so Tunny takes his crutches and follows Will to his room. Navigating there takes some time, thanks to the mess that's taken over the floor, but as soon as he falls into bed, he's happy he did it. There's room to sprawl out and he's instantly more comfortable, and it barely takes five minutes before he's falling asleep again.

In the morning, Tunny wakes up with Will spooned up against his back. He's frozen for a minute, suddenly nervous, before he relaxes into it. It's weird, yeah, but it's comfortable. Will's arm is around his waist and his forehead is pressed against the back of his neck, and it's the safest Tunny has felt since he came home. He thinks about that for a few minutes, about whatever the hell that actually means, but Will waking up shuts that down before Tunny can get too trapped in his own head. It takes Will a few minutes to shift and sit up, and then he doesn't say anything about what was happening -- he acts like nothing is wrong, and Tunny supposes nothing is. Will crawls out of bed and flashes a sleepy smile at Tunny, and Tunny chooses to stop questioning whatever is going on. It could be nothing or it could be everything but Will doesn't seem to be bothered either way. Either way, Tunny has enough things to worry about without adding his best friend to that list. For once he chooses to let things work themselves out, and he can't help grinning as he thinks of how good the future could be.


End file.
